Glancing down at my dirty, torn jeans, I can’t help but chuckle. “Pants. Definitely pants.”
By now we’ve reached the front of the dormitory. The circular drive is lined with trees and hedges, reminding me of some kind of Victorian manor, and all around me are students going to and from classes. Josie turns to me and fumbles in her pocket before pulling out an old-fashioned skeleton key. “Here’s your room key. Quaint, I know. Yours is number 12-B. Fifth floor, remember.”
“You’re not coming with me?”
She shakes her head. “I have to get back to my office and check my charms. There may be others like you out there who need to be picked up. But the dormitory is pretty straightforward--you won’t have any trouble. Here’s a copy of your schedule, as well,” she adds, producing a printed sheet of paper. “The breakfast bell rings at seven every morning. If you’re worried that won’t wake you up, set an alarm on your phone. Just follow the other students to the dining hall, and if you get lost, you can ask the faculty for help getting to your classes.”
“Got it,” I say, nodding. “Thank you, Josie.”
“You’re welcome, Millie,” she replies, giving me a long look. “And listen,” she adds, “if you ever need anything, or even if you just want to talk, my door is always open. I know how it feels to be new to all this--I was in your shoes too, once.”
I can’t help but wonder if she knows anything about being in my shoes, considering what the headmaster said. An abomination, he had called it. If he’s to be believed, then I’m only the second shifter like me in history. Still, I appreciate her kindness, and when she extends her hand, I shake it. “I’ll take you up on that, I’m sure,” I tell her, smiling. She takes a step away, giving me a professional nod, and then begins to make her way back towards the academy building.
On my own now, I turn and walk the rest of the way down the drive until I find myself facing the dormitory doors. I probably look pathetic, standing there in dirty clothes, all my possessions on my back, clutching my schedule like a lost puppy. The fact that I don’t have a uniform yet only makes me feel like more of an outsider as I glance over my shoulder at the campus around me.
As if to confirm my fears, the sound of a female voice over my shoulder makes me turn back around. “You don’t look like you’ve been here more than five minutes.” I look to see a svelte girl with freckles and a mess of blonde curls that bounce around her face when she moves. She has her book bag over her shoulder and her arms are full of school supplies, having just emerged out of the building through the double doors. Her expression is curious but not unkind. “Yikes,” she says, in an accent that might be American, or maybe Canadian, stopping beside me and giving me a once-over with her jade green eyes. “You’ve certainly had a bit of a rough go of it, haven’t you?”
Shrinking a little under her gaze, I reply, “You could say that.”
“So what was it?” she asks, either oblivious to my embarrassment or too brazen to care. “Did you set your house on fire? Attack one of your classmates? One of the girls on my floor nearly drained her sister dry when she first shifted. You know--vampire.” She makes a face and shakes her head. “I’m more into chocolate than blood, personally, but to each their own, I guess.”
“Uh…” I begin, caught off-guard by her willingness to talk to me.
The blonde girl laughs, a tinkling, girlish sound that probably makes every guy she meets fall head over heels for her. “Sorry, sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “This is probably all pretty new to you, right? Let me guess: you didn’t even know shifters existed until, like… now.”
She’s really on my wavelength, I think, and reply, “Damn. You’re reading me like a book.”
The girl waves a dismissive hand at me. “Hardly. I’ve just been there before, that’s all. Just two months ago, actually. When the recruiters tracked me down, I thought I’d completely lost my mind. Thought it was all bullshit.”
“Really?” I raise my eyebrows. “Are you… I mean, do you have parents?” It comes out sounding more insensitive than I intended, and I wince, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, I have parents,” the girl replies, “but they’re human, both of them.”
My curiosity is getting the better of me, and I ask, “How is that possible?”
She shrugs. “I think being a shifter is more like a genetic mutation than something hereditary. That’s what they say, anyway… whoever “they” are. It sounds like they still don’t know what causes some people to be born with shifter magic. But I guess that’s why we’re here, right? Sorry,” she adds, going a little red, “I’m rambling. My name’s Hazel, by the way.”
She sticks out her hand, and I shake it. “Millie,” I reply. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Millie. Listen, I’ve got to get to class--I’m already on thin ice with Professor Freemantle. But I’ll catch you later, yeah? Got dinner plans? Of course you don’t. We can eat together, if you want.”
“Okay,” I say, my smile growing. I’m already starting to like this girl. “Sounds good. I’ll see you later.” She nods, grinning, and starts away. “Good luck with that professor,” I call after her, and she raises a hand in acknowledgement.
Feeling a little better after my interaction with this bubbly classmate, I push open the heavy wooden door to the dormitory. I find myself in what looks like a parlor, with couches and ottomans all around. On the opposite side is a fireplace, but given the
